


Alone With Our Changing Minds

by deandratb



Series: Tumblr Micro Requests [9]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fic, bearing gifts. Set around 2x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone With Our Changing Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimed. Anonymous prompt: **comfort food**

When the knock on the motel room door pulled her away from her research, Liz assumed it was Reddington. Trust him to show up uninvited, especially when he knew she wanted to be left alone. 

Instead, gun in hand, she found Aram on her doorstep–quite possibly the last person she would have predicted.

Her blank stare seemed to fluster him; they stood silently for a moment before he remembered to speak.

“I brought you something.” Aram showed her the covered dish. “Ressler mentioned that you were living in less than stellar accommodations.”

Liz tucked her gun back into its holster. “Ressler needs to mind his own business.”

“He’s just worried about you.”

She lifted one eyebrow, unsmiling. “Are you worried about me?”

He cleared his throat, looked down at the floor for a moment.

“I like your new hair,” Aram replied with a quirk of his lips, as though that answered her question.

Sighing, Liz stepped back, gestured for him to come in. “How did you find me?” Wisely, he didn’t comment on the state of her room. The haphazard piles of stuff, the crazy collages–she knew how it looked.

She didn’t care.

“Um, it’s kind of my job, finding information?” Aram shrugged, didn’t elaborate further. “Well,” he added, holding out the dish again, “here you go.”

Liz took it, lifted back the foil. “Macaroni and cheese?”

He smiled. “Comfort food. I just thought, you probably don’t have a stove, maybe you miss…food. The kind that doesn’t come from a microwave, or a takeout menu. Especially when things, well, suck.”

The laugh bubbled up unexpectedly. “Aram…you know they make, like, five different kinds of microwave mac and cheese, right? This is one of the few foods that I can make for myself pretty much any time.”

“I hadn’t really thought about–I mean, I guess I should have realized…” He stopped stammering through deliberate effort. “No. No, that didn’t occur to me. Sorry.”

When he tried to take the container back, she pulled it out of his reach. “I didn’t say I don’t want it!”

Uncertain, Aram watched as she sat on the bed and took a careful bite. She had a desk chair, but it was holding a stack of papers…and there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to sit. Not that she had invited him to.

“This is good,” Liz finally declared. “Not from a box.” She patted the empty side of the bed before taking another bite.

“Family recipe,” he replied with a smile as he sat. “It’s one of my better dishes, actually.”

“You like to cook?” She realized as she ate that she didn’t even know he had a family. They didn’t really talk outside of work. Or about anything that wasn’t work.

“Yeah. I’ve never been–I’m better with computers than ingredients, but I enjoy it. My family likes elaborate meals.”

Liz nodded. “That’s cool. I’ve never been good at it either. This is really good.” She grinned at him, surprised him into grinning back.

He was right; there was something comforting about home-cooked food.

Or it might have been the company.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "State of Grace" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> If you'd like to see more of these, head [here](http://iwantthepony.tumblr.com/post/128453041570/send-me-a-number-and-ill-write-a-micro-story) to request one!


End file.
